That’s right, guys. You have been putting up with my rantings, ravings, and ramblings for one hundred of these blog posts. Alternatively, some of you looked at this, said “What the f–k is this shit,” and left immediately. But both of you brought my page view up, and with it, my self-worth as a human being, so I thank both of you!
Rather than talk about something deep and meaningful (psh, not around here!), I thought I’d recap with quotes from our last 99 posts; things that I thought were “deeply” philosophical on my part, or what I pass for humor around here.
(Also, if you’ve been wondering why I haven’t been posting anything but drivel lately, I’ve been sick with a sinus infection for about a week and am only just now recovering, so all I’ve been able to do is sit on the couch and not work. Which has its perks, but it’s pretty samesy.)
Now, without further ado, the Undiscovered Country Quotapalooza!
But now my “losingstuffitis” has claimed a new victim – My. Best. Hat.
Hiding Under a Restaurant Table – A Day in the Life
Guys, I’ll admit this. I hate teenagers. It’s no secret. They’re balls of uncontrolled hormones with little respect and much bravado. There is not much likable about that.
Doing Battle Against the Mighty Malware
It is, apparently, Russian, which I guess figures in some existential way I am not entirely clear on yet.
Got Off My Lawn – A Retrospective from a Native Portlander
And the thing of it is, that is only a very small part of the city. Leave Hawthorne or Sellwood or Burnside, and you get a much more standard picture, populated by the people who were born here and are actually trying to live here, not make some artistic, save-the-Earth statement: go into the Pearl and you’ll see a sea of Yuppies. Stroll downtown through the parks, and for every PSU student you see with Che on their shirt, you’ll see at least ten businessmen in well pressed suits, strolling between the courthouse and Starbucks – because Starbucks STILL out-populates the independent shops. Head west and you’ll see upper-middle-class “standard” American mothers pushing strollers through Beaverton, or Waverly Heights […] or Hillboro or the Hills.
And so the hipsters will leave. They’ll have to, because the day Portland actually creates a job market for people with that kind of liberal arts degree […] is the day I’ll eat my missing hat. And we will go back to being slightly dingy, well-meaning, and perfectly content amongst ourselves.
Heaven Help Us, if the Library Caught on Fire…
In my sweet old dog is the love of God.
Grab a pic! Do a blog!
Holy Jesus passing out Easter candy, when the heck do I get a chance at catching Rayquaza? Groudon? …other complicated name!?
Which is not to say Hanna hasn’t given me stuff, because he has, but I think probably the cutest symbol of his friendship was that I squeezed his toothpaste tube from the middle for a week and a half – and that OCD freak was tortured, but never said a word about it.
Because I doubt Jesus is going to want me when he comes down to smite all you bitches tonight. Can someone say “Party over here, sinners?” Oh yes. I can.
Remember the Alamo? Maybe You Shouldn’t.
That’s right. I have an assistant. How cool is that? Bonus points: he’s a guy. I get to boss my male assistant around. If this isn’t the culmination of my little life, then my life has a lot more awesome in store than I could ever hope for.
Happy Independence from Bad TV!
But hey – we are the originals! The gold standard of managing to not go on a totally ridiculous killing spree and actually create a semi-functional government! Let’s celebrate that with explosions, fat, and television!
[…]All I know is this: did you want to know about the American Revolution yesterday? THEY HAD THAT! How about today? NOW, TOO!
The Only Thing Better than Hairspray! Lots of Stuff
Mom was nearly late since she never checks her voice mail and you don’t listen when I talk, Mom!
[…] may she go on to do amazing things and make other similarly heterosexual girls (and, uh, guys I guess) melt in adoration of her performance.
[…]is it racist if you use a dark-skinned Pacific islander as an African American? Or is it psychedelically un-racist. I think the jury is still out on that one.
Sick Sick Sick
So in the end, I did find a Spaniard about my age NOT masturbating, who didn’t want to see my tits, DIDN’T ask if I was horny, and DID have a nice, normal conversation with.
He was a pot dealer, though.
The Tao of Cassia
And so enlightenment is achieved while sitting on the kitchen floor, which badly needs mopping.
Yeah, that’s REALLY going to change people’s minds! “Remain xenophobic or I will kill you all!”
Emily VS THe Punk Youth of America
Oh yeah, bitch. Your teenage snark is no match for the fact that I don’t rely on my mom to drive me places.
Yay for Consumer America!
GO AMERICA! Where I can ignore my debts for just enough time to buy needless shit I won’t read for at least FIVE YEARS.
Did I mention this book is almost 800 pages.
Google+ and Adulthood
And when I say teaching, I really mean it, which I’ve never really done before, but we did days of the week yesterday, and numbers, and practicing being in line, so eat it, people with degrees.
And They’ll Know We Are Christian By Our Love
And so it is from our own Brothers and Sisters in Christ we suffer most. No Devil need apply.
Music of Heaven
My friend, congratulations. You have just achieved transcendence.
God takes more strength than what I had in me.
I had received a promise from God, without rainbow, without covenant. I owed nothing. I loved Chris, I prayed for him. What more was there?
Portland and the City of Shame
The child who is dying of starvation in Somalia is not impressed that you’ve camped in a publicly funded park for the last month – a park that would not exist were it not for the taxes you hate and the government you protest.
The woman who was kidnapped and raped and sold into prostitution in Eastern Europe does not feel bad for you.
The Noble Prize committee is not impressed.
That’s Family For You
Pretty much no matter how mad my dad is, I can squish my face like a moron, say I’m a fish, and he’ll smile.
I Think I’m Officially Old
Surf, Goldeen, surf me away on your tiny fishy body!
Wow, that took two hours too long. I hope you guys enjoyed this romp through the last seven months. Was there some bit you particularly liked and I passed over? Leave a comment (or email me, which is what most of you do. It works, I get it). Here’s to another 100 more posts!